Nightmares
by Immortal Supernatural Freak
Summary: *Parent!Lock, Johnlock, Mystrade.* John wakes up to find Sherlock comforting their son after a nightmare. But when a comforting hold isn't enough, John and Sherlock give in to the idea of telling him a story. John decides that whilst nightmares are terrible things, nothing holds a stronger emotion than family does. So he revels in being able to hold his family close and just smile.


**Authors Note:** **HEYO! XD Please tell me what you think; I would absolutely love to know XD I own nothing and no one, apart from the following:** Tauriel Mycha Watson-Holmes, Riley Hamish Watson-Holmes, Jessica Molly Watson-Holmes, Malakai William Watson-Holmes, William Timothy Scott Lestrade-Holmes, Isaac Gregory John Lestrade-Holmes, Eliza Mary-Beth Lestrade-Holmes, Joanna-Beth Watson and Aaron-James/Tyanna-Rose Watson **.**

 **JUST SO YOU KNOW: This is my second attempt at Sherlock and Johnlock, so please be kind!**

 **Please, please review XD**

 **John**

Having four children – the oldest being ten and the youngest being five – plus keeping my job, chasing Sherlock around London on a case, all the while trying to keep some sort of a normal routine for everyone was _very_ tiring.

It was a miracle if I could even get four hours of solid sleep at night – before _someone_ in the house woke up from a nightmare, or couldn't sleep, or Sherlock woke up horny... _again_.

But I wouldn't give it up for anything.

As the new additions to 221B started coming, we – Mrs Hudson, Sherlock and I – had managed to buy the flats next door, knocking down the walls where appropriate so we had the right number of bedrooms and enough space. Surprisingly, it worked for us, and now Sherlock had somewhere to keep his experiments – _away_ from the kids.

Of course, ever since our eldest turned two months old – nine years and a month ago – he had changed – for the better, of course. He was still the same old Sherlock – especially to Anderson and Donovan – but he was just far more relaxed. Plus, ever since Mycroft and Greg had pulled their heads out of their arses and got together – that had been thirteen years ago, now – Sherlock and Mycroft had sorted out their petty differences, getting along as brothers should – with the occasional bickering, of course.

Anyway, since it was the holidays and the kids were off school, I was hoping that I'd be able to get more than four hours of sleep. But, when I woke up at two in the morning, I was wondering if I would ever get the recommended eight hours again. I was about to get up to go see why I had woke up, when I heard a soft sniffling sound coming from the direction of mine and Sherlock's bedroom.

Now, it wasn't Sherlock for obvious reasons, so that left four possibilities:

There was our oldest – Tauriel Mycha Watson-Holmes, ten years old. She still had nightmares after hearing conversations about our cases... I blamed Sherlock for that, always talking a bit too loudly – Tauriel was a light sleeper sometimes. Coming up with her name was one of the best things I've ever had the pleasure of doing – sneakily taking one of the most passable names from _The Hobbit_ to be her first name. Of course, Mycha was a combination of Mycroft and Harriet and, interestingly, an interesting – and nicer – way of spelling Micah. Mycroft would never admit it, but he shed a tear or two when we told him, and Harry...well, finding out about Tauriel and hearing how we came up with her middle name was that last little bit that helped her get sober – eventually, she worked everything out with Clara and they were now expecting their second child.

Riley Hamish Watson-Holmes was the second, nine years old. His nightmares came from the horror movies Uncle Greg and Uncle Mycroft let him watch whilst babysitting. Apparently, they thought a nine year old boy could handle watching scary movies... Of course, they didn't have to deal with Riley after – every time Sherlock and I had to go out at night because of a case, meaning Mrs Hudson watched the kids, Riley would break down and go one about not wanting us to get attacked by some monster or another. With his name, Sherlock had insisted that Hamish had to be in there somewhere – especially after the comment I made to him and Irene Adler all those years ago. Riley, however, was just a name that fit the little boy.

Third was Jessica Molly Watson-Holmes (Jess/Jessie), eight years old. It was, surprisingly, Sherlock's idea to have Molly in our daughter's name. When we had told Molly that our her name was going to be Jessica's middle name...well, she fainted just a little – Jessica was chosen after Mrs Hudson mentioned how lovely she thought the name was. She was still in the ' _monsters under the bed and in the wardrobe_ ' phase, which caused her little mind to come up with things that would terrify an eight year old. There were times that Sherlock and I would wake up minutes before we would hear Jessie crying, both of us in sync with our children.

The three of them were much like me in looks – and the majority of their personalities, though they had Sherlock's intelligence. Tauriel was pure blonde, Riley was a sandy-blonde, whilst Jessica had dirty blonde hair – the blue eyes they got from both Sherlock and I, but the majority of their traits were from me. Our youngest, however, was different.

Malakai William Watson-Holmes (Kai), five years old. He was more like Sherlock – in looks as well as personality, though Malakai, according to Sherlock, had all of my best traits. Sherlock had come up with Malakai for our youngest, revealing it had always been a name he liked – of course, this was the time for me to use William, since Sherlock insisted on using Hamish. Sherlock had revealed that Greg's middle name happened to be William, so it seemed right to use William for two reasons. Now, whilst all of the kids had gotten Sherlock's brain, Malakai was the only one that got it full force... Once we figured this out when he was three, Sherlock had become even more protective – he was fiercely protective of all of them, but more so of Malakai after the revelation. Sherlock had warned me about how a mind like his and Malakai's could conjure up some terrifying scenarios – especially when mixed with how cruel people could be – so it wasn't surprising when Malakai would wake up screaming, petrified of what had happened in his head.

Malakai was the usual suspect when it came to coming into the room after a nightmare, considering his were the most frequent, but I could never tell until I had actually seen who it was.

Just as I was about to open my eyes though, I heard Sherlock's voice.

"Come here, Bumblebee." Sherlock whispered, shifting on the bed slightly.

' _Bumblebee_ ' was the nickname Sherlock had given Malakai – all the kids had them. It was something that the genius had started and couldn't stop; it was a habit I had gotten into as well. But the kids didn't mind, they actually seemed to love the names.

Especially Malakai.

I heard the springs in the mattress groan slightly – we were in need of a new one – as the five year old climbed onto the bed. Malakai, surprisingly, was the most sensitive out of all four kids and the one that seemed to need the most physical contact. Again, he was like Sherlock in that way – well, after Sherlock had taken down his walls, of course.

"Another nightmare, darling?" Sherlock asked, sleepily, holding Malakai close to his chest.

There was another sniffle and a small hiccup as Malakai hummed quietly.

"Do you want to tell Daddy about it?" Sherlock whispered, his right hand reaching to stroke Malakai's hair.

Instead of words coming out of his mouth, Malakai burst out crying, clinging to Sherlock – and his toy bee – tighter, burying his head in Sherlock's chest.

There used to be a time when Sherlock had no idea what to do when some had a nightmare. He was fine if it was me – I was an adult who could deal with the majority of it... But the first time it happened with Tauriel, he was all over the place, not knowing what to do or say... After a while, he got the hang of it – watching how I dealt with it and doing _a lot_ of research seemed to help.

"Was it about Papa again?" Sherlock sighed, quietly, rubbing his hand down his back.

"Y-Yeah." Malakai hiccupped, whimpering slightly.

It was one of the most heartbreaking sounds a parent could hear their child make. It broke your heart. Another thing that broke your heart as a parent – knowing that something in there nightmare, which you were in, was hurting your child.

"Papa's fine, Bumblebee." Sherlock told him. "Look over my shoulder; he's perfectly fine."

As the sound of a small body moving against the bed sheets reached my ears, I couldn't keep my eyes closed any longer. Opening them, I could see the dark outline of Malakai's head poking out over Sherlock's shoulder.

"Hey, Baby Bear." I said, quietly, lifting up the arm I had around Sherlock so I could run a hand through his hair.

As I did this, Sherlock switched on the light beside the bed and turned over, keeping a tight hold of Malakai so he wasn't crushed in the process. He placed Malakai between the two of us, my arms around them both. Malakai kept as close to Sherlock as possible, whilst gripping onto my pyjama shirt and hiding his face, keeping a tight hold of his toy bee.

Leaning forward a little, I kissed the top of Malakai's head, causing him to let out a little shaky breathe, still sniffling. I hated seeing my family upset – it hurt too much to see the ones I loved in pain. I had gone through that with Harry, I had gone through that with mum and dad, I had gone through that with Sherlock... Hell, I had gone through that with _Mycroft_! But something about the kids made it hurt far worse. They were too little and too innocent to be hurting like this.

I hated when mine and Sherlock's kids were hurting, not matter how small the thing causing the pain was. The same was with Greg and Mycroft's kids – the eight year old twins William Timothy Scott Lestrade-Holmes and Isaac Gregory John Lestrade Holmes, as well as seven year old Eliza Mary-Beth Lestrade-Holmes – and Harry and Clara's kid – nine year old Joanna-Beth Watson and, if their expected child was a boy, Aaron-James Watson or, if their expected child was a girl, Tyanna-Rose Watson.

I didn't want any of them to hurt, in anyway shape of form.

"Papa?" Malakai's small voice asked. "Can you and Daddy tell me a story?"

"Course we will, Baby Bear." I whispered back, pulling him and Sherlock a little closer. "Do you want some water first?"

Immediately, Sherlock and I felt the five year old tense up. A new wave of tears was soon to be flowing over our baby's face and that thought _killed_ me. But, surprisingly, Sherlock stopped it before it could happen.

"Why don't the three of us go to the living room?" Sherlock suggested. "Sit by the fire for the story. How does that sound, Bumblebee?"

"Sounds good." Malakai croaked, shakily. "Can we, Papa?"

"I think it can be allowed." I smiled, leaning my head against Sherlock's for a moment.

As we started to move, Malakai clung to me instead of Sherlock. He had always taken more to Sherlock than me, a reverse from the other three. I wasn't saying that any of the kids preferred me or Sherlock; but there is always a parent that a child feels closer to, will go to more often. I guess, with the nightmare apparently involving me, it should have been obvious that Malakai would want to be close to me.

After Sherlock grabbed a few extra blankets and pillows from the cupboard – there was no way Malakai would want to be away from either of us, at the moment –, we walked out of our room, moving through the kitchen to the living room. We stopped for a moment to get some water for our five year old, only moving completely into the living room after he had drunk, at least, half the cup.

Instead of sitting on the sofa, Sherlock started making – what I liked to call – a nest, in front of the fire. It was usually something we would do with the kids on the weekends, having dinner like this and just enjoying a bit of family time. Any time Greg and Mycroft came over with the twins and Eliza, or Harry and Clara came over with Joanna-Beth, or even all eight of them came over, this would be how we would all sit – on the floor, on the nest. They would even _bring_ blankets and pillows to add to it! It was something that seemed to comfort the kids; it had become a little tradition for us all. I couldn't even remember how it started...

Whilst Sherlock and, with a little convincing, Malakai made the nest, I walked over to the bookcase, opening the draw beneath the shelves, taking out one of the books from in there. As soon as I turned around, I found Sherlock standing at the edge of the nest, cradling Malakai close. The five year old was, pretty much, like a little Sherlock – mop of dark curly hair, blue-grey eyes, pale... He didn't have the height but, Mycroft had told me that Sherlock was a small little thing until he hit puberty – after that, I had seen many pictures that supported that fact.

Smiling slightly, I sat down on the blanket, placing the book beside me, propping a pillow up behind my back – against the sofa, leaning back as I looked towards the fire place. When I was comfortable, Sherlock stepped towards me, sitting down in the space between my legs, leaning back against my chest, head under my chin, whilst Malakai sat on his lap, also leaning back against Sherlock's chest. Like earlier, I wrapped my arms around them both, holding them close. Even after all these years, I still thought it was some kind of dream...physical contact was the only way I could reassure myself that they were real.

For a minute, I took the time to just enjoy a bit of quite with my husband and our youngest child, the fire warming the room up as the rain splattered on every surface outside. As we sat there, I could both see and feel Malakai slowly start to relax, the tears drying up and the slight shaking coming to a stop. Only then did he bring up the story again.

"Ok, you look through this and tell us what story you would like to hear." I told him, passing him the book – a photo album.

As he looked, Malakai giggled at a few of the pictures. They were taken by Sherlock, Mycroft, Greg, me or Mycroft's surveillance team, all of them ending up in the photo album with the date and a caption on why that photo was taken and what had happened that day. It was a good way to see how both Holmes brothers had slowly changed over the years – it was always fun to see them both out of the suits and in casual clothing.

It was near the beginning of the book that Malakai found the picture of Greg, Mycroft, Sherlock and me all soaking wet in a lake... He didn't even need to tell us that that was the story he wanted to be told, the look on his face already doing that much. Malakai placed the photo album on the floor next to the three of us, carefully turning over so he could face Sherlock and me, still holding his bee close to him and thumb in his mouth – we had been working on trying to get him to stop that, now it only happened after nightmares.

Sherlock and I looked at each other for a moment, both of us grinning, remembering that day well. I mean, it had been a lot of fun, but also a big step for him and Mycroft.

 ** _FLASHBACK – TWELVE YEARS AND NINE MONTHS AGO – Sherlock's POV_**

 _John and I were on a date, a common occurrence if there was no case – considering Lestrade was taking a week out of his holiday time, I wasn't getting any cases. That was why we were at a lake – we had taken the drive out of London to this spot in the countryside where Mycroft, my parents and I used to go sometimes when I was very young._

 _It was, surprisingly, a nice summer day in England – for a change – no sign of rain for the rest of the week. Of course, that could all change... So, it was nice to abuse the nice weather when the opportunity presented itself – well, that's what John had said, anyway._

 _We had only been there for a short while, sitting by the lake and picking at the lunch we packed with us. Of course, John wanted to hear the tales of when Mycroft and I were young at the lake, wanting to hear more about Mummy and Father. It was, dare I say it, quite pleasant. Yes, John and I had been in a committed, romantic relationship for almost two years now, but it was still quite trying, attempting to open up._

 _But it was worth it – for John. Not that I would say that out loud._

 _We hadn't been there for more than an hour and a half when we heard our names being called._

 _I didn't need to turn to see Gregory – yes, I actually knew his name, it was just more fun to annoy him – and my brother making their way over to us. Had I seen either of the recently, I would have been able to deduce that they were going on to come here themselves – I would have made sure not to have brought John to the lake, if that was the case._

" _Greg, Mycroft!" John grinned as the pair got closer. "What are you two doing here?"_

" _They're obviously on a date, John." I muttered, lying myself down across the blanket. "This is the only place Mycroft knows of that can be classified as '_ romantic _'. He's clearly trying to impress Gavin."_

" _That isn't my name Sherlock, and you know it." Greg sighed._

 _With a grunt, I closed my eyes against the sun – I wondered if there would ever come a time when you could actually make people disappear with a thought... It was an appealing concept, but was never going to happen – it went against all things natural in the world._

" _Why don't you join us? The more the merrier." John asked._

 _The day was turning into my own, personal hell..._

 **(Later on)**

 _It got to the point where both John and Mycroft had to stretch their legs, the pair of them standing and going for a short walk along the riverside. Gregory didn't seem to mind – of course he wouldn't... But I would_ not _allow my brother to take_ my _John._

" _Come off it, Sherlock. They're just mates." Gregory grumbled, lounging in the sun, sunglass on._

" _Oh, do shut up, Graham!" I snapped, keeping my eyes trained on Mycroft and my blogger._

" _What is it with you and Myc? Both of you act the same."_

" _What are you babbling on about?!"_

 _Sighing, Gregory lifted his sunglasses up so they rested on his head, propping himself up onto his elbows._

" _Take_ you _,_ _for example." he said, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You act like John's going to run off with whoever walks past him. Yeah, loads of people flirt with him, but he makes it clear right from the start that he's got you – besides, I'm pretty sure Mycroft won't try and take him from you. Now, I repeat, what is it with you?"_

 _I couldn't fathom why Gregory was trying to make me speak about..._ feelings _. I could barely do that with John, let alone anyone else! Of course, no matter how many times I reminded him of that, he continued to push and push and push – whenever he spoke to me._

 _I tried to ignore him, but Gregory had seemed to have copied one of Mycroft's many annoying habits – staring at people until they grew uncomfortable. Yes, he had to do this for his job, but the affect seemed to have doubled since he had been with my brother. It was both intriguing and disturbing._

 _Somehow, that look, could always get me to reveal anything – not that Gregory knew, and it would be kept that way. So, reluctantly, I sighed and looked towards the Detective Inspector._

" _People always leave." I muttered, staring at the ground, plucking the strands of grass. "No matter what, everyone always leaves. Our brother Sherrinford left, Mycroft left, Uncle Rudy left,_ _Redbeard_ _left – well, actually, Father shot him, so I suppose that doesn't count... And that's only to name a few. John will leave... Besides, Mycroft always seems to get rid of what I care about."_

" _Whoa, whoa, whoa! Your dad_ shot _someone?" Gregory squeaked._

" _Redbeard was our dog. I was the one who named him and was the fondest of him... He was old, going deaf and blind. I was only young when Father took him into the woods surrounding our estate, saying he was going hunting. I, of course, followed, wondering why he would need Redbeard and I watched as my Father put a bullet through Redbeard's head. I refused to take to him for close to a year."_

 _Gregory nodded, an emotion spreading over his expression –_ sympathy _, I noted._

" _Sherrinford, older than Mycroft by four years, disappeared when he was sixteen – Mycroft was twelve and I was five... Our dear older brother now spends his days in an asylum. Uncle Rudy left for Vegas when I was thirteen. He was a cross-dresser and found more people that accepted his lifestyle choices over there than he did here in England – haven't heard from him since." I continued, thinking it best to get it all out before Gregory could ask questions, looking back to the grass. "Mycroft left for a boarding school at eleven – I was four –, only ever returning home for the holidays. He left me completely alone and then wondered why I treated him like I do anybody else. Mycroft took it upon himself to disrupt anything in my life that I cared about, whether that be disposing of it or throwing it away... What's to stop him from doing the same with John?"_

 _I didn't expect Gregory's hand to land on my shoulder, the sudden touch causing me to flinch ever so slightly, turning back to face him. Gregory and John had both already been informed on what happened to Mycroft and me at our respective schools, learning how the other children treated us. Of course, Mycroft was usually left alone since he wasn't as much of a '_ freak _' as I was... I, on the other hand, was beaten into a pulp whenever someone got their hands on me – which resulted in Mother and Father having to send me to a number of different schools, before being able to send me to the same boarding school as Mycroft when I turned eleven. Of course, Mycroft told them both without me present, knowing I would object to the release of this information, even if it was to two of the people I would trust with my own life._

 _It didn't take me long to deduce that Mycroft had told them, considering how they were both walking on eggshells around me as soon as I arrived at the flat. If it wasn't for John and Gregory dragging me off of him, I would have broken – or at least sprained – Mycroft's arm, along with the bloody nose and bruised jaw I gave him. And rightly so, that information wasn't his to share, no matter how he chose to justify it._

" _Trust me, he wouldn't do that. Myc's changed, I promise... But I really think you should talk to John about this." Gregory sighed, squeezing my shoulder slightly. "It'll be better if he knows, instead of blaming himself for you being in such a bad place."_

 _I flickered my gaze down to the blanket, only looking up when I heard John's laugh carry over from where he and Mycroft were talking by the river._

" _And I will maim him if he tries to get of John." Gregory added, grinning. "John will help."_

 _It took mere moments for me to think over what Gregory had said, thanking him as I stood up – this was the only time since I had known him that I had used his actual name, surprising him – before heading over to Mycroft and my blogger._

 _As I got closer, John's laugh reached my ears again as Mycroft stood a little closer to him, whispering something. It was just like that that all rational thought left my mind – well, that's the excuse I was going to use to defend why I had shoved my brother, backwards, into the lake._

 _The lake wasn't deep – it would have only come up to John's hips – so Mycroft could stand quite comfortably in it... Once he broke the surface again, of course. Gregory, however, couldn't see how deep the water was, causing him to run over in a panic. Only when he saw that Mycroft was quite alright did he start laughing at the drenched politician._

" _Having a nice swim, brother mine?" I grinned as Mycroft glared up at me._

 _Now, had I been thinking right, I would have deduced what Mycroft was going to do next and move out of the way. But, since I wasn't I was promptly pulled into the water myself._

" _You tell me, brother mine." Mycroft smirked._

 _Neither John nor Gregory could keep themselves in check, the pair of them laughing like hyenas, using each other to keep standing. With a quick glance at each other, a mischievous look that hadn't been shared since Mycroft left for boarding school, Mycroft and I tugged our respective partner into the lake, comical yelps drawing from their throats._

 _The splash that was caused by Gregory and John hitting the water ended with Mycroft getting wetter than before... Of course, I knew that he wouldn't appreciate being compared to a drowned rat, but I couldn't help myself..._

 _I suppose you could say I was the reason the water fight started..._

 _We didn't see one of the men in Mycroft's surveillance team snap a quick picture of the four of us, sending a copy to Mycroft before deleting it._

 **(Later on)**

 _The four of us were packing up for home after sharing a – surprisingly – delightful day, from the water fight onwards. We had let the sun dry us as we sat around, for once there being no arguments. Not even between Mycroft and me. It reminded me of a time where we used to get along famously, back when we really_ knew _each other._

 _I wouldn't say it out loud, but I missed those days..._

" _I do to." Mycroft's voice said from behind me, Gregory and John over by the cars further away. "I also miss my baby brother... The one that_ didn't _hate me, would call me '_ My _' and, in return, allow me to call him Lockie. Any chance you know where he is?"_

" _Unlike some people, he never left. Only refused to be seen." I muttered, folding up the blanket in my hands, keeping my back turned on my brother. "_ My _, on the other hand, never came back from boarding school. Instead it was someone that only_ looked _like him."_

 _Mycroft sighed, quietly, walking around me to grab the blanket he and Gregory brought with them, folding it up before helping me clear everything else off of the grass. I couldn't tell where Mycroft was going with this, and I had always prided myself in_ knowing _what he was going to do next._

 _For the first time in a very long time, I just couldn't tell..._

" _Gregory explained to me your concerns." Mycroft said, softly, keeping his eyes trained on the grass beneath us. "I want you to know that I would never get rid of John. I don't want to hurt you."_

" _Yet you didn't seem to care when we were children, did you?" I hissed. "No, you didn't care then, so why would you now? You're the smart one Mycroft. Remember? So tell me why you would care now!"_

" _I have always cared for you! I regret my choice of leaving you every day, especially when I saw what it had done to you. But we were young and you were acting so cold to me... I was at a loss as to why my best friend was treating me like one of_ them _. I've tried to make up for it Sherlock, but you resist. I tried with getting you clean; I've tried with making sure you stay safe; I've tried with making sure that you are being looked after. Nothing I do seem to help and I only want Lockie back."_

 _Twitching slightly from the onslaught of emotion from my brother and within myself, I couldn't stop from breathing a little heavier than normal. It wasn't a panic attack, those never felt like this, but something wasn't right. I could feel tightness in my throat as the twitching started to get a little worse... It was always times that you needed someone to interrupt that they didn't..._

 _But everything seemed to stop when Mycroft copied an action that Gregory had done earlier, placing his hand on my shoulder. Quickly, I lifted my head, finally looking at my brother._

" _I want to make this right, Sherlock. I want to go back to how we were before." Mycroft told me. "Meet with me, this weekend – John will be working and Gregory is seeing his children. Please, Sherlock..._ Lockie _; we can fix this."_

 _Slowly, I nodded, deciding, for once, not to trust my voice._

 _A small smile from Mycroft and a goodbye from him and Gregory was how it ended, before John and I were left alone just like we had started the day._

 _In the back of my mind, I wondered if Mycroft and I_ could _fix this..._

 ** _END OF FLASHBACK – PRESENT – John's POV_**

And, obviously, they did. It took a little while, but Sherlock and Mycroft were just like any two siblings that loved each other.

We, of course, added that little fact onto the end of the story, watching as Malakai smiled up at us.

"Daddy?" Malakai said. "I'm happy you 'nd Uncle My like each other again."

"So am I, Bumblebee." Sherlock grinned, lifting his hand to move a stray curl out of Malakai's eyes. "Next time he's over you can tell him that, yeah?"

As Malakai nodded, his mop of dark hair bobbed, the stray curl going back into his eyes. Smiling, wondering how I could have gotten so lucky, I got a soft yet secure grip on Malakai and pulled him in closer to Sherlock and me, hugging them both as tight as I could without cutting off oxygen.

"I think Papa's getting sentimental, Bumblebee." Sherlock teased. "Think he needs a big hug."

With a little help from Sherlock, Malakai stood on the pair of us so he could manage to wrap his arms around my neck.

" _Wait for us!"_ three other voices called, as bare feet slapped against the floor.

Before we knew it, Sherlock and I had been blanketed in our children – Jessica and Malakai in the middle, with Tauriel and Riley on each end. Tauriel and Riley always – even subconsciously – were protecting their younger brother and sister... I hoped that that was how it would stay, that none of them had to experience what Sherlock and I had to go through with our siblings.

"You're supposed to be in bed." I chuckled, raising an eyebrow at the three additions to the nest.

"But we woke up and something didn't feel right." Tauriel explained.

"Kai wasn't in his room, so we thought something was wrong." Riley insisted.

"We wanted to know everything was ok." Jessica added.

Yeah, I was pretty sure I didn't have to worry about any of them hating each other as they got older. If anything, the older they got, the more they would want to protect each other. Just how it should be.

I couldn't help but smile a little more as I saw how all four of the kids had the stuffed toy they had had since _birth_ clutched in their hands – Tauriel had a brown teddy bear, Riley had a purple dinosaur, Jessica had a red and black ladybug and Malakai, obviously, had his black and yellow bumblebee.

"Kai had a nightmare, but everything is fine, my darlings." Sherlock soothed, smiling at the four of them. "Right, John?"

"Yeah, everything is perfect." I grinned, sighing happily.

Despite all the horrors of nightmares, it didn't compare to the love of my family. I had my husband, my kids, my sister, my brothers and sister-in-law, my nieces and nephews... I had everything I needed and more.

Nightmares be damned!

* * *

 _ **Please, please review XD**_

 _ **Thanks everyone XD**_


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